


A Different Kind Of Healing

by shepherd



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Robot Sex, Slash, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-11
Updated: 2013-01-11
Packaged: 2017-11-25 03:06:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/634453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shepherd/pseuds/shepherd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the tfanon kink meme. Request: Prowl was injured in battle, and was fixed by Ratchet. He is under bed-rest orders, but Jazz has other ideas. Rated M for sex. Sticky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Different Kind Of Healing

"No buts!"

Jazz chuckled quietly as he watched two mech's bicker through the ajar doorway. He leant against the door frame, his optics glinting and shining in good humour.

"At _least_ put me on light duty," Prowl argued, attempting to sit up on his berth despite the huge brace on his left leg. "I'm the tactician, I need to work-"

"No." Ratchet spoke bluntly and firmly, and pushed him back down. "Thanks to your little stunt, the Autobot forces are crippled. That means no more attacks, and that means no need for a tactician right now. And," the medic caught Prowl opening his mouth and ready to protest. "Your paperwork is being passed over to someone else just as capable as yourself. So deal with it."

Frustrated, Prowl growled and turned his head away, giving the walls of his quarters a dark look. Jazz saw Ratchet give a amused half smile, before turning away too, showing his back to the saboteur. He gestured to a cube of Energon, and a vial of some colourful looking liquid.

"The energon's for refuelling, and that stuff there is for the pain." Ratchet turned and gave Prowl a stern look. "Make sure you drink it. Not like last time." The quip was ignored, and Prowl continued staring down the foot of his berth.

"Oh, is His Majesty sulking?" Jazz teased, making his presence known. Both of the mech's turned to watch his sashaying entrance with interest. However, Prowl's dark scowl deepened while Ratchet nodded, agreeing.

"I do not sulk."

"Yes, you do, you're doing it now." Ratchet spoke almost absentmindedly, turning back to fiddle with the vial. Jazz moved to stand next to Prowl's berth, flashing him a cheeky grin. "Are you going to stay, Jazz?"

"Yeah, Prowler's gonna need a decent source of entertainment now he can't work his aft off." He winked roguishly.

"Excellent, now you can make sure he refuels and takes his pain meds, as well as make sure he doesn't do anything sneaky."

"I don't think I'll be doing anything sneaky for a while. Especially escape." Prowl nodded down at the brace. "I move, and the whole base hears about it."

"Well, that's what you get. And I was thinking more about you trying to sneak data pads!" Ratchet scolded, before looking at Jazz. "Don't leave this crafty fragger alone for more than ten minutes at a time. I'm going to check on the less problematic patients in the med bay. It's only a few rooms away, as you know, so call me if you need anything."

"Wow, us Autobots really got owned, didn't we?" Ratchet pulled a face.

"Surprise attacks really do that to us, I've noticed. Anyway," As he walked past, he clapped the thankfully able bodied mech on the soldier. "Like I said, call me if you need me." And with that, the medic disappeared out of the door.

Jazz turned and grinned at the injured Prowl. "Hiya, Prowler. You look like slag."

"Heh, thanks." He responded. Absentmindedly, he reached down to carefully touch one of the many new weld marks across his chassis. "Compared to the others, I'm quite fortunate." Prowl eyed the third in command. "Not as lucky as you, though, I'll admit."

"Gettin' away with barely a scratch ain't luck, it's skill. The Jazz-man's just that awesome. I'm like a fraggin' ninja."

"Yes, Jazz, you're a ninja." Prowl humoured him, rewarding Jazz with a rare but good-natured smile. He tilted his helm back, baring his throat and resting his helm. "Pass me the Energon, please?" Nodding, Jazz moved across the room to fetch the cube. He stared at the vial full of the liquid, noting its vibrant green colour and foul stench.

"Want your meds? In any pain?"

"No, thank you." Jazz picked up the cube and neglected the medicine, returning to the berth ridden mech. He perched on the edge of it, and passed him the cube. Prowl refuelled quietly without much verbal complaint, but he gave a small grimace of pain as he raised his arm, agitating the welds. Jazz watched, concerned. The moment the other black and white mech put the cube down, resting it in his lap, Jazz leant forward and kissed him.

It was a simple, but sweet kiss which Prowl willingly but carefully returned. He reached around to hold his head closer as Jazz tasted the Energon on his lips. Prowl eventually broke the kiss due to breathing commitments, and smiled as he felt Jazz rest his forehead against his cheek.

"I'm just glad you're still with me." He murmured, and his lover gave a low hum.

"You know I'm tougher than that," He pressed another tiny kiss to his partners nose. "Don't worry about me, love."

Jazz snorted. "Stubborn as the pit." He pulled away from Prowl's touch momentarily. "Well, you're stuck now. With me." He laughed when he saw optics flicker with some annoyance.

"I'm not even on light duty." He complained. "I've never been on berth rest before."

"So think of this as a nice break, then. A few days with no work." Prowl pulled another disgruntled face, but said nothing. "I know you don't like it, but your gonna have to get used to it. Ratch and I will be watchin' you _very_ carefully."

"Thank you." Prowl said, not even bothering to veil the sarcasm in his voice.

"No problem." Jazz replied, overenthusiastically and delightfully, just to annoy his lover. Jazz took the Energon cube before Prowl could retort, and placed it to one side. He grasped his hand as soon as he finished, and leant in for another kiss. "I love you, Prowler." The tactician gave another little smile, his door wings twitching behind him.

"I love you too." He allowed Jazz to press his lips against his cheek and jaw, his optics shinning. But as Jazz's mouth slowly progressed to his throat, he shook his helm and gently pushed him away. "Don't be getting any ideas, Jazz." The music lover pouted.

"Why not? You haven't anythin' else to do." He released Prowl's hand, and began stroking up and down his forearm. He nuzzled at his neck, gauging his reactions.

Prowl's optics narrowed in clear annoyance, but his movements- pulling his arm out of Jazz's reach- faltered. "Ratchet's in the next few rooms and he could be back at any moment. I know that you can't live without interfacing at least once a day, but I'd rather not risk the head wounds if he found us, thank you kindly. Oh, and plus," he looked down between their bodies as Jazz leant over him, down at his leg brace. "There's no way we can interface normally or comfortably with this thing on. If it wasn't for those reasons," Prowl gave a half seductive, but mainly teasing glance. "I would."

"I wasn't thinkin' about my own needs, Prowler." Jazz purred back, a smooth smile appearing on his faceplates. "I was thinkin' more about yours." Jazz took hold of both of Prowl's hands again, gently pinning them to his sides. He loomed across him, and dusted even more kisses across his lover's door wings. Prowl groaned at the light sensations on his sensitive wings, feeling the warmth of his lips on them. Instinctively, without his consent, they flared out, giving Jazz better access to their hotspots. He grinned.

"Good mech." He praised, before licking up the entire length of the wing, stimulating most of the sensors. The reaction was immediate, and Prowl cried out, door wings trembling in arousal. He arched up, determined to come closer- but then groaned in pain. Jazz instantly let go, and began fussing.

"Prowler? Are you alright? Do you want your meds? Or maybe I should call Ratchet? I'll go call Ratchet-"

"To the pit with Ratchet and those meds!" Prowl suddenly growled, panting lightly. He reached after the retreating saboteur, snatching at him and trying to drag him back. "Continue, but be _careful."_

Unsure, he allowed himself to be pulled back, but he dithered. "I'm sorry, Prowler, I just wanted to-"

"Shut up, Jazz, and get on with it." Prowl pulled him close, and Jazz could feel the injured mech's body heat steadily rising. "Let's just say it's my reward for being a good, brave soldier."

"….You sure?" Jazz spoke tentatively, still conflicted, but allowed himself to rest a hand just above his lover's spark chamber, and to gently rub the edges. Prowl said nothing, but he purred and carefully pressed into his touch.

Slowly gaining confidence, but still feeling guilty, Jazz kissed the corner of Prowl's mouth lovingly. Meanwhile one hand petted at his chassis whilst another rubbed at his shoulder.

"Quit being so delicate," Prowl snapped. "I'm not a femme."

"Primus, Prowler. I'm starting to think you like the pain." The tactician snorted, and tilted his helm up again as his partner began nipping at his throat harshly. "This better?" As if to punctuate his words, Jazz buried his servos' into the gaps between Prowls' strong armour. He knew there was a hot spot in there somewhere.

"Ah, yes." Prowl groaned, stretching, but being careful not to pull at his still healing battle wounds and welds. "Much better…"

Jazz smiled, dipping his head down and biting harder at his collar and the ridges of his spark chamber. His hands fell down to his lower abdomen, brushing his hips and pausing tantalizingly close to his valve and spike covers. Jazz could feel the extreme heat and could hear Prowl's intakes working faster and harder than they were five minutes ago. Jazz himself was beginning to feel a bit bothered by his lovers reactions.

His hands slowly trailed down to Prowl's inner thigh as he sucked and licked at the warm metal on his chest, but neglected his spike for the panel which hid his valve. He ran his fingers over the heated metal teasingly, drinking in Prowl's reaction- a little buck of the hips and a choked breath.

"Open up." He commanded, kissing down the centre of Prowl's chest. Almost instantly, the cover slid back to reveal Prowl's valve, soaking wet, dribbling lubricant and radiating heat. Jazz hummed as he extended a finger to swirl around its rim, collecting the lubricant and coating his finger with it. Prowl shivered underneath him, his chassis heaving and his optics offline.

The moment Jazz pushed a single finger into Prowl's body, the sensors inside activated and the tactician came alive. He bit down on Jazz's shoulder to muffle his cry of surprised delight, sending shockwaves through Jazz's own frame. The saboteur groaned as he felt Prowl wrap his arms around his back, and pressed his finger deeper into his mate's valve. Prowl writhed underneath him, begging for more.

By the time Prowl was ready to take another finger, he was growling and swearing, threatening to slaughter the mech if he didn't hurry up and _overload him, slag it._ Jazz laughed deep in his throat.

"Patience, Prowler." He teased, slowly pushing his one finger in and out. His second finger inched closer while Prowl bitched.

"Hurry up, Jazz or- _oooooh_ ," Prowl moaned as Jazz thrust another finger inside, and began slowly rocking back into his probing fingers. He could feel the sensors deeper within his valve beginning to activate and send tendrils of pleasure throughout his frame. His valve walls squeezed over them, slowly adjusting to the penetration. He stretched back, enjoying the feeling of the slowly growing coil of tension in the pit of his abdomen and the feeling of something inside him. He spread his legs minutely, as it was hard to move the leg with the brace, but Jazz understood. He shifted, putting a little more weight onto his lover, and added a third finger. Prowl cried out once more, muffling the sound, his body tensing. He could feel his spike aching and beginning to swell behind his spike cover.

The fingers thrust deeper and deeper into his slick valve, and the tactician bucked down even harder. He moaned, thrusting faster and faster to match Jazz's rhythm, the tension and pleasure building until the dam broke, and he muffled a howl of pleasure onto his lovers shoulder as he overloaded. _Hard._

Jazz grinned in triumph as he felt Prowl's inner walls clench and ripple around his fingers, impossibly tight, and delightfully warm as lubricant began seeping past. He pressed another sensual kiss to his throat.

"You always make a mess," Jazz pulled his fingers out from the sensitive valve, and wriggled them for emphasis. Lubricant seeped out and gathered on the berth. "But frag it do you look hot covered in your lubricants, and Primus, even better in transfluid." Prowl gave a breathless little groan, his optics barely online as he slumped against his mate. Jazz laughed, and gave himself a moment to lick and clean his fingers- Prowl, who was watching, groaned and sagged once more, overwhelmed by the sight. He lay back on his berth, strong door wings trembling.

For a few seconds, Jazz savoured the sight of his mate spread out, his thighs soaked and stained with lubricant, the erotic fantasy of mechs everywhere. But soon, he returned to business, and reached up to caress the other cover between Prowl's legs.

Panting, Prowl immediately complied and let his hardened spike extended and stand to attention. Jazz took hold of it gently, resting one hand in Prowl's thighs and slowly lowed his helm down, taking it into his mouth. Prowl gasped at the sudden warmth and wetness on his spike, overwhelmed, and prayed to Primus hat Ratchet didn't chose this exact moment to return. He longed to jerk his hips, to achieve more pleasure, but he knew he couldn't. But soon, his body almost went numb with pleasure as Jazz began to suck lightly at first, teasing his lover, and swirled his glossa around his sensitive spike. He panted and moaned as Jazz licked and lapped at the head.

"Primus, Jazz!" He moaned, his hands clawing at the berth. Jazz smiled around his spike, taking more of it into his mouth and sucking firmly, but being careful not to damage it or hurt his lover.

After several minutes of the pleasurable torture, Jazz felt Prowl's thighs tense, and heard him growl. From previous experiences, Jazz knew that the tactician was approaching overload.

Jazz quickly withdrew, releasing Prowl's spike - smiling at his groan of disapproval- and kept on hand on it. He slowly, almost lazily began to snap his wrist and pump the spike. Prowl keened quietly, his hands clawing at the berth and his spark trembling inside its casing.

As Jazz thumbed he slit, taking his time and revelling in Prowl's sounds of agonized pleasure, the older mech reached up and grabbed him by the neck, bringing him in for a fiery and passionate kiss. Jazz moaned into it as he felt Prowl's denta gnaw and bite at his lower lip, falling prey to his lovers passions. He tugged harder at Prowl's spike, his grip tightening a fraction, and Prowl's hips began thrusting without rhythm, lost in the ecstasy of the moment.

Not long after, the tactician howled, his voice once again muffled by Jazz's strong shoulders, and jerked. Fluids erupted from Prowl's spike, and dripped down onto Jazz's hands and merged with the fresh lubricant to stain his abdomen. Jazz watched, transfixed as Prowl trembled underneath him, riding the waves of his overload. Jazz could listen to the simply intoxicating sounds for the rest of his life.

Eventually, he settled, panting and exhausted. His helm slumped back, and his optics met Jazz's visor. The third in command grinned at him, all sweetness and light. Prowl let out a sound which could have been a groan or a sigh.

"Primus." His optics dimmed. "You're too much for me. Too young and excitable."

He blinked. "Sorry, but are you gonna go into a rant about 'fraggin' younglings' after this?" Jazz stared at him incredulously. Prowl gave a breathy laugh.

"Too tired." But now he sat up, slowly and carefully, and brought Jazz into another kiss, dropping his hands down to Jazz's own chassis. He could feel the extreme heat and arousal radiating from his core, and purred into his lovers mouth at the feeling. Jazz returned the kiss eagerly, but had a sense of déjà vu as he pulled away once Prowls hands lowered to his unscarred abdomen. He shook his head, tutting.

"No, bad Prowler." He scolded teasingly, grinning at the look on Prowls face. "This was about you. Not me." He leant in for another quick kiss, before he hopped up onto his pedes and began looking around he room. Prowl made a disgruntled noise, and tried to reach after him.

"Jazz, at least-"

"Nope." He cut across he second in command, smiling, knowing he hated to be interrupted. "If you really care about 'returnin' the favour' or whatever, you can make it up to me once you're off berth rest." He winked down at the berth ridden mech, his optics tracing his abdomen. The transfluid and lubricant was beginning to dry already. Prowl did look gorgeous and processor-blowingly sexy like that, but he had to be quick cleaning him up- if Ratchet returned, he would obviously notice immediately- and Jazz liked his helm the way it was. He wasn't eager about having it forcibly removed and kept in Ratchet and Ironhide's shared quarters. "You got anythin' I can clean you with?"

Still frustrated, Prowl sat back. He huffed, but knew that Jazz was right. He wasn't in the right state for anything….strenuous. He would have to delay it, and repay the pleasure on a later date. He growled to himself but answered his partner

"Yes. There should be a cloth in one of my desk drawers." Jazz stepped over to it, noting that without the masses of data pads the desk looked creepily bare, and began checking the drawers like Prowl said. He remained unaware of Prowl watching him go and leering at his aft, and ended up finding the cloth on his third attempt, and returning to the berth. He cleaned off the drying fluids quickly but carefully, being careful not to cause any pain. When completed, he pressed kisses on the now clean spot, and kissed up to his jaw. His visor flared.

"Love you, Prowler." He spoke softly, and Prowl hummed quietly, a small smile on his face.

"I love you too." He murmured back, a sated look on his face. The two fell quiet for several moments, Jazz nuzzling at his mates throat, and Prowl staring at his helm, looking deep in thought.

"What are you thinkin' about?" Jazz eventually questioned, his voice curious. He titled his head up minutely to see the glow of Prowl's optics. He heard a small laugh.

"I'm planning what I'm going to do to you the moment this brace is off." Was the purred, sultry response.

"Oh good, I thought you'd be thinkin' about your darlin' data pads." He teased.

"Jazz, I am both shocked and offended." Prowl spoke dryly. "After overloads like that, it makes me at least fifteen minutes to start thinking about work again."

He could feel Jazz pulling a face against his neck, and he smiled, but neither of the two wanted to spoil the peaceful moment. They remained silent, taking comfort in each others presence.

When Ratchet finally returned, carrying extra meds and Energon, the two were curled up together in recharge. He rolled his optics, but neglected to wake the couple. After all, Prowl needed the rest and at least it kept Jazz quiet.

And if he saw the stained, abandoned cloth on the floor, he wisely said nothing.


End file.
